


Family Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be, But It's Still Nice

by SoriSeeraKyra



Series: Family Values [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Forgiveness, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Death, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoriSeeraKyra/pseuds/SoriSeeraKyra
Summary: You've made up with your father, and old wounds are beginning to heal, but what about the rest of your family? They had been complicit in your upbringing, did they deserve your forgiveness?  And did you deserve, Jason's?





	Family Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be, But It's Still Nice

The sweltering heat of May in Gotham kept Alfred in the grocery store more than usual. As well insulated and air conditioned as the manor was, the heat and longer days meant that there were less days when the manor was empty. Parties, charity events, and the more than occasional female guest, meant that the place started to feel less like a home and more like a convention center. Shopping often helped calm his mind during such times, even if there was really no reason for him to do it himself.

As he shopped he came to a stop in front of the frozen foods. Usually, when it came to these sorts of things, pizza rolls, hot pockets, and the other horrid things that young boys ate, he’d refused to buy them. There was no reason that they couldn’t indulge themselves on healthy food. However, in his good mood, he’d decided he’d treat them. It is summer after all, and one time out of a thousand couldn’t hurt.

As he filled his basket, he came to stop in front of the ice creams. His shoulders slump slightly. She always preferred frozen treats rather than the frozen meals. Gelato was her favorite, and she’d try any flavor at least once. Although, he remembered, she was overly fond of sea salt and caramel.

“ _An unusual flavor for a young girl to love_ ,” he remembered telling her as she sat in the dining room indulging herself one day. She’d been eleven at the time, her birthday having just passed and only the two of them there to enjoy it.

_“It’s perfect!” She exclaimed with a toothy grin. “Not too sweet, and I’m not thirsty after.”_

_“I see,”_ he said with a smile to match her own. _“If that’s the case, it might become my favorite too.”_

She had smiled and fixed him a bowl and they ate, chatted, and laughed. A sad smile crosses his face. It was the last time he had seen her so happy living at the manor.

For a moment he hesitates. It was something special shared between the two of them, shouldn’t it be enjoyed together?

And even as the thought runs through his brain his hand reaches for a pint of the dessert and its’s laying snug between a bunch of bananas and a bag of grapes as he headed toward a cashier’s lane.

As he stood in line he watched with sad eyes as a little boy reached for his father, clutching his fingers tightly as an easy smile crossed his curious features. Alfred’s heart skipped at the sight, not at the familiarity, but at the guilt that had been eating away ate him for quite some time. He was a failure twice over in some ways.

When met with a scared little boy he helped him become a monster. One that helped people and was only scary to those who lived a wayward life, but no less a monster. And then when offered the chance again, the chance to properly groom another of the Wayne blood into a well-rounded person, he sought simply to pacify her needs. When she needed her father, did he fight with him to stay and be with her? No, he’d gone through that with the boys that came before her and he knew that there was no point, so he didn’t even try. Instead he gave her ice cream, took her shopping, placed her in piano lessons.  He did everything he could to shift her mind from the fact that she was not a priority.

His eyes well slightly and to keep his tears from falling he blinks as rapidly as he can.

He doesn’t find it in his heart to engage in more than simple pleasantries with the store worker. He could barely even look the young girl in the face. She would have been about his girls age. And while the young woman who serviced him was bright and cheerful, he ached at the fact that he would probably never hear the same happiness from the girl he held dearest to his heart.

It didn’t take long for him to pay, load his groceries into the back of the car and to arrive back at Wayne Manor. However, for a long moment, he found himself sitting in the car dejected. Disappointed with the lack of fight he put up for a young girl who had desperately needed him.

_‘I should have threatened to resign,’_ he thinks with a sigh. Maybe then things could have been fixed. Though, he doesn’t doubt that it wouldn’t have lasted long. Whatever change in Bruce’s behavior his threat would have brought about would have been temporary. A part of Alfred also knows that she would have seen through the façade and would have been even more hurt that her father had decided to spend time with her not out of love for her, but out of desperation for Alfred. She was a perceptive young girl, a trait that she had no doubt inherited from her father. It had always made him laugh how alike the two could be despite not having spent time together.

He should have seen the turn coming, he knew. There was no excuse for his lack of attention. He knew she relied on him, and even though he could say without a doubt that he had shown her more attention and love throughout the years than any other? Had he really understood her? No that would be Jason, the other outcast child. And how much of the _love_ he showed her had been out of obligation rather than true affection? She would have been able to tell the difference. She was after all, _such_ a perceptive child.

When the heat became unbearable, he began to unload the car. He struggles slightly, his back strained under the weight of the bags in his arms, a reminder of his age that he hadn’t been quite expecting. He stumbles back a bit, but quickly finds his footing. One of the bags in his hands however, plunges its way to the ground.

But, it doesn’t hit.

“I can carry the rest in for you, Alfred.”

He stiffens and he turns to look at the entrance to the manor. He nearly bawls when he sees her standing there with a more than welcoming smile.

“That would be wonderful, miss Wayne.”

***

As she sat across the table from, only slightly older, he found himself overwhelmed with emotions at the time he missed and the years that he squandered.

“You’re not eating yours,” She comments with a slight frown and furrowed eyebrows. “Did I put too much in the bowl?”

His eyes flicker down to the bowl in front of him briefly and saw the desert melting rather rapidly. How long had he been lost in his thoughts?

“No, it’s just the right amount, miss,” He responds as he finally takes his first spoonful into his mouth.

She reciprocated the action, but her eyes don’t leave his form, almost like she was analyzing him. She probably was. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was, he wouldn’t be surprised if a part of her felt like she needed to keep her guard up around him.

“He didn’t tell you,” She says quietly a tone of realization present in her voice.

“Pardon?”

“He didn’t tell you that he came to see me. That we talked. That we were trying to fix things,” She clarifies. “So, you’re wondering how much I must hate you.”

His cheeks flush slightly, surprised that she would so easily voice his thoughts.

“I’ve been back for a while now, Alfred,” She says gently tapping at the bottom of her bowl with her spoon, having finished with her own gelato. “As much as I hated living here, I don’t think I could ever really leave.”

She looks down slightly, a shy demeanor coming over her form. She looked so much like the young girl that used to sit in the exact same spot.

“I wanted to see you, Alfred,” she says, and he can hear the tears in her voice. “But a part of me thought you might hate me.”

“I could never,” He breathes with a sad smile. “I had only hoped that you forgive me for not doing more for you.”

“It wasn’t your responsibility,” She corrects. “You weren’t my parent.”

“No,” he says with a nod. “But you should have seen me as a part of your family.”

“You were, I did, I do,” She says bringing a hand up to wipe unfallen tears. “I just think that, I needed something that you couldn’t give me, especially when I saw the others get it so easily.”

“I could have done something,” he responds, still feeling guilt in his heart.

“It true,” She doesn’t deny him this time. “There are many things that could have been done to help the situation. But your percentage of fault is negligible, in comparison. And there are things that I could have done to make it better for myself, but I was so angry. Most of the time I could barely contain myself.”

Her eyes seem to drift off as if she’s remembering something and a sad smile pulls at her lips, “I don’t want to think about the past anymore. There is so much anger, that could have been avoided, and I want to forget. I want to move on, and I want to be happy.”

“And what would make you happy, young miss?”

“I’m not sure,” She says without hesitation. “I don’t think I’ve ever had good examples of what true happiness looks like. But I know that coming here and talking to you, has brought me an immense amount of relief.”

“If you would allow me, I would like to help you figure what would make you happy.”

“I’d be delighted to have you help me.”

The smile she gives him, reminds him of the young girl that first sat there and smiled innocently at him. He wanted to help make sure that she could smile like that more often.

***

It’s June when Damian Wayne notices, Alfred’s happy hums. Well it wasn’t just the hums, there was laughter as well. Feminine laughter. It was suspicious. Did Alfred have friends?

He squats behind the entrance to the kitchen and peaks in slightly and his bright green eyes go wide.

“What are you doing?”

A voice asks from behind asks. The young boy jumps slightly and turns to see the blue eyes of his eldest brother staring at him.

“Honestly Grayson, it shouldn’t be that hard to tell that I’m on a recon mission,” Damian hisses in annoyance.

“In your own house?” Dick questions again with a raised dark brow.

“If you’d use your senses, you’d know we aren’t alone.”

“Alfred does live here, y’know.”

“Not Alfred.”

It’s then that Dick hears the laughter too and the familiarity of it causes his hair to stand on end. He too begins to peer around the corner to confirm his suspicion.

“If she’s in the house doesn’t that mean that, Father knows she’s here?” Damian questions.

Dick nods, “The question is why didn’t he tell us.”

“It wasn’t my business to tell,” A deeper voice calls out, causing the younger boys to jump in surprise. “And if I had told you, what would you have done?”

They met Bruce’s questioning gaze. Dick shrugs, honestly not knowing what he would have done with the information. His sister was a criminal, and he knows that a part of him would have wanted to immediately turn her in. He would have been torn, though, knowing that he was part of the reason that she ended up the way she did.

“I would have found her confronted her. She needs to atone for the crimes she committed,” Damian says without hesitation.

Bruce lets out a snort.

“The question is, if you knew that she was back, why haven’t you?” Dick asks looking at Bruce in slight confusion.

“Guilt most likely,” Damian answers before his father can respond. “Isn’t that right, father?”

“A little, perhaps,” Bruce answers truthfully. “It’s also true that she’s helped more people than she’s hurt.”

“Look at that,” Dick says with a roll of his own eyes. “You, using nuance, such growth.”

“I’ll ignore that for now.”

“So, we’re just going to let her off the hook? She deserves to be punished!” Damian yells.

The elevation in his voice, silences the voices in the kitchen.

“And what exactly should she be punished for?” Bruce asks growing slightly angry at the young boy.

“How about Grand Theft? Assault? I’m sure using the city library as an evil lair is some sort of crime,” The young boy says with his arms crossed.

“And what about me? Would you see me punished?” Bruce asks with a raised eyebrow.

“For what?”

“Child neglect.”

“Child Neglect?” The boy questions with a scoff. “Whatever emotional problems she had where her own to deal with. She was well taken care off.”

“Was she?” Bruce questions with a sigh.

“I’m going to agree with the kid here, Bruce,” Dick says with a shrug of his shoulders. “One ‘ _crime’_ doesn’t excuse another.”

“Then you agree that we, all should go to jail then,” Bruce asks with a raised eyebrow. “Last I checked vigilantism was still a crime. Not to mention that we are all technically accessories to kidnapping. Remember, Dick, that time you locked her in her room against her will. I’m sure the police would love to know how holding a young girl hostage was for her own good.”

“That’s different!” Damian argues, but he doesn't have anything to bolster his argument.

“No, it’s not. Like it or not, there are most definitely times when we pick and choose who we’re going to going to be lenient towards,” Bruce says smoothly. “I’m just surprised that the two of you aren’t showing the same courtesy to your own sister.”

He brushes pass the pair into the large kitchen. There is a quiet pause and then the conversation picks up again. Not as many laughs as it was before, but still a light conversation.

Damian clicks his teeth and he glances up at Dick, “You can entertain this if you want, I’ve got better things to do.”

Dick somberly leans against the wall and simply gives the boy a nod in response. When Damian realizes that he’s not going to get the response he wants from Dick he storms up the manor’s stairs, determined to ignore everything that would be happening downstairs.

Dick stays where he is. He felt conflicted about the situation. As much as Bruce had been correct about the reality of what she had done and what had been done to her, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to forgive her for the pain she caused when she left.

_‘But how much pain had she endured by simply living here?’_ Dick says catching his thoughts. ‘ _How long had she hated us? How long did we act like we hated her?’_

However, that thought causes Dick to shake his head. It might have been better if she thought they hated her, in reality it was more like she didn’t exist.

With a sigh, Dick leans his head back against the wall.

He decides that he’ll talk to her. It’s the least he should have done as her big brother, right?

***

You’re slightly surprised when Dick enters the kitchen. It’d had been only a few minutes since your father had returned to his _study and_ Alfred had run off to make some confirmations about an upcoming dinner party, leaving you to watch over the roast placed in the oven.

Sat at the kitchen island reading a magazine, you watch as Dick awkwardly worms his way into the room. He looks around the large kitchen, eyes taking in the space like he had never been inside the large room. Finally, his blue eyes meet yours and he flashes you a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he says with a wave of his hand.

You watch him with a slightly raised eyebrow, “I’m not going to poison it if that’s why you’re in here.”

“I’d be more concerned about you breaking my arm,” He snarks back without thinking.

It causes you to flinch and your eyes flicker back down to the magazine in front of you. You weren’t here to be dragged into some antagonistic conversation.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean that,” He apologizes quickly.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Yeah, I did,” He says with a sigh.

“I don’t know why everyone thinks your such a nice guy, Dick,” you say while flipping. “You can be so...”

“Clever?”

“Bitchy.”

“Wow, ouch,” he says putting a hand over his heart like he had been wounded. “Didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“How would you?” You question, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “The last time you talked to me this much you locked me in my bedroom, _‘for my own good’ I_ believe that’s what you said it was.”

“I was trying to protect you,” he reasons.

“I didn’t need to be protected!” You screamed. “I needed a brother, and what I got was a baby sitter that didn’t want the job.”

Oh, this wasn’t going the way that you wanted.

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You didn’t want anything to do with us either.”

“Really, Dick?” You ask skeptically, nearly scoffing at the man. “That’s you’re excuse? I was a ten-year-old little girl that had just lost the only family she’d ever known and then thrust into a family that quite literally paid no attention to her. I was depressed, I was hurting, and I needed someone. I figure you, of all people, should understand that.”

His eyes flash to the ground.

“And what really gets in your head as a little kid is when you’re the only one of your family that doesn’t look like your parent. You start thinking that there is something wrong with you, that maybe you really don’t belong. And you all treated me the same way I felt. So of course, I pulled away. You could have at least tried, but you didn’t.”

It’s quiet and you know that he’s thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“No, you’re not Dick,” you say with a sad smile. “You aren’t sorry because you thought you were doing the right thing.”

“I did what I was told to do,” He says looking at you with narrowed eyes, “Don’t forget, I was a kid too.”

“And somehow you were going out beating up bad guys every night. If you could tell right from wrong in the outside world, why couldn’t you tell the difference when it came to me?”

You’d tried to work this very thought out so many times, that the question doesn’t bring tears to your eyes anymore. You aren’t even really sure if what you want is an apology or just an acknowledgement of what happened. A part of you doesn’t want more than that. Dick was right, he was a child at the time, as were all of your brothers, in reality they were all simply following the lead of your father.

Still, would it have been too much to have been able to deal with the horrors of childhood together?

“I didn’t know what to make of you when you first got here,” he says after a while, seemingly having put together his own thoughts. “You were really little when you came, but something about you was so dark. Like bad guy dark. At first, I thought you were like me, someone who he took in, not that you were related in anyway. You were so thin, I thought that maybe someone had been abusing you and he’d found you or something.”

“I didn’t tell anyone my mother died,” you interrupt, solemnly. “We sat together for the longest, until the landlord found us, because she started to smell. I’d stopped eating while we waited, I wanted to be with her.”

“I-I didn’t know.” He says with a sigh and he run’s another hand through his hair. “At first I thought you were going to be like me or if you were more like Jason. Thinking about now though you were definitely more like Damian, but quiet. Your eyes were old even though you were so little; does that make sense? I feel like it does. I didn’t know about your powers, and in reality, I don’t know much about you now. You were so intense, a part of me was scared and didn’t know how to interact with you, so I didn’t. It didn’t seem like you needed anyone and as you got even older, the feeling got worse.”

“Intense?” You question. You don’t remember being scary, but everyone else was. Not only that you were afraid about what would happen, you were afraid of the world that you were about to be thrust into.

“When my parents died, I wasn’t right either. Part of me wanted to close up and another wanted to shut down. Bruce helped, not in ways that a kid could understand, but he helped. It took a while, but eventually I was ready to be a person and move on. Even now, as much as my parent's death hurts or is a part of me, I don’t want to let it define me.”

“You think I have?” You question.

“I think you had no choice,” He says with a nod of his head. “You lived with her, while she was gone, physically and mentally. I don’t know if you ever really came to terms with the fact that she was taken from you. I don’t know exactly what damage that does to a child, but there was something there I think that it changed you. I think that I was wrong earlier, when I said you were like Damian, I think you’re more like Bruce than any of us.”

“Is that an insult?” You question with a chuckle. “Usually when that comparison is made it's an insult.”

“No, kinda, not really,” He says slightly sheepishly. “I just mean that, the _thing_ that caused Bruce to become who he is, I don’t have it. Jason didn’t have, and Tim most definitely doesn’t have it. Damian had some of it ingrained in him just because of who his mother is. But the truth is that without Batman, and even if the same events happened to us, none of us would be who we are. “

“And so, you’re saying that when I came, you saw whatever _that_ is in me?” You question with furrowed eyebrows.

“I didn’t realize it was a thing until I got older, but what I did see was Bruce,” He says crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t know because you’ve never been out with him when he is Batman, but there are times when he almost can’t stop. Where he almost breaks his one rule. And it’s usually not because he hates them, but there is a part of him that simply hates the concept of crime in general.  It’s like a cut that’s festered and its never healed and its formed from what happened to him. He’s consumed by it. A normal person would have grieved and moved on, invested money to help the victims. A normal person doesn’t train kids to fight gangsters and monsters in the middle of the night. He’s not normal, and its why every time he gets close to happiness, something normal, Batman takes a back seat.”

“What exactly does that have to do with me?”

Dick takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes.

“If it wasn’t cancer, what would you have done?”

“Excuse me?”

“If your mother had been murdered, and you were able to use your powers the way you are now, what would you have done?”

“I would have killed who ever hurt her.”

It comes out so quickly, you’re surprised when the words hit your ears. Your body stiffens when in slight surprise.

“Most people think that, but they say that because of sadness, but they never carry it out,” he says with a shake of his head. “But you and Bruce do. And the only thing that stopped him from doing it is some convoluted moral code that has him going out every night dressed as a bat.”

“And you saw all of this in a little girl,” you say with a shake of your head. “Great way of rationalizing this, Dick.”

“When I first saw you, I was scared because your eyes were dead. They looked the same way that his do when he’s close to losing control or when he can’t deal with the outside world. When I saw you the first thing I thought was ‘ _Great another monster_.’”

Your eyes meet his, and you almost tear up.

“The truth is staying away from you was probably some sort of inherent feeling of self-preservation that I was acting but wasn’t conscious of. It’s unfair to you, I get that. But imagine if you lived with Superman and you were always worried that he might blow the planet is one little thing sets him off. You’re on edge all the time, it’s terrifying. I know this is painful to hear, but if there was anything that Bruce taught me that I’ve taken to heart it’s to be weary. And that’s why I not only purposely distanced myself from you, but  I told Tim to stay away from you too.”

The admission surprises you and it seems to surprise him to, as it tumbles past his lips.

“You couldn’t let him make up his mind up himself?”

“I was trying to protect him,” He breathes. “Tell me I wasn’t right to.”

“I wondered why he hated me, all this time,” You say quietly. It feels cold.

“Jason wouldn’t have listened so there was no point and by the time that Damian was here you were already cut off from the rest of us.”

“Did you really hate me this whole time, Dick?” You ask, but your voice is so small he can barely hear you.

“I could never hate you,” He soothes. “But at the time, you were the boogieman that haunted me. In some ways both you and Bruce still are. You both are examples of what I never want to be, never mind your powers.”

You look at him with a questioning gaze.

“Why are you here?” He asks seriously. “What was the point of coming back here?”

“I wanted to see, Alfred.”

“Why?” He asks with a shrug. “As ‘ _nice’_ as Alfred was to you, he still didn’t treat you like family.”

You don’t answer.

“The only person that I think that you probably should have come back and seen was Jason, but he won’t be here, and you know that. You came back here because of the _thing_ you and Bruce share. You both can’t move on. The past has happened, and I’m sorry that your childhood was shitty, but it’s not coming back. It’s good that you and Bruce and Alfred have all made nice, but you don’t have to care about us, and you shouldn’t force you self too.”

“You want me to disappear, Dick?” You question slightly hollowly.

“Not really,” he admits, and when you look at him, his eyes are hazy with tears. “But I want you to be happy, and I want you to get rid of the _thing_ that both you and Bruce share, so that at least you can be the one to get away from all of this.”

“Why would I want to do that?” You question.

“Nothing ever good happens in this house, and I guarantee that if you stay with here, if you get involved with everything that goes on here, the way that you want to, it won’t end well. Go away, find what makes you happy. Try to undo all the things we did.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you say with a shake of your head. “You are my family, all of you. And if I ran away from that, I know I couldn’t be whole.”

He stares at you disapprovingly and shakes his head, “You’re gonna be just like him, just like us. Broken.”

“I already am, Dick, so who better to have as my family?”

He sighs, “I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone, you know?”

“Mine either but were both stuck with what we got.”

He relents with an accepting sigh.

“So, should we start over?”

“Nah, that never really works anyway,” You say with a shake of your head.

“How’d this go with Bruce?” He asks somewhat awkwardly.

“I almost killed him.”

“And Alfred?”

“We laughed and ate ice cream.”

“So, we’re smooth in the middle then?”

“Just about.”

“Is that cool with you?”

“Not really, but it is what it is.”

He nods, and as awkwardly as he entered, he tries to leave.

“Dick,” you call, and he freezes eyes cutting over his shoulder. “I don’t hate you.”

“Do you kInda like me?”

“We’ll get there.”

***

It’s July and you’re renovating. While you have an unspoken bond to your mother’s apartment, you also feel quite cramped in the small room. You’d bought the entire building, why not use it? You’d also be lying if you said that you weren’t suffering in the heat. The reinsulated walls of your apartment did nothing to save you from the sweaty and aching wooding that occupied the rest of the rundown building. Your father had offered to help in the reconstruction of the building but given his penchant for replacing things and not restoring them, you rejected his help.

As you had begun tearing down the building, leaving everything bear but the foundation and as much you could of your mother’s apartment, you realized that Dick had been right. Staying at Wayne manor did bring you memories and mostly painful ones at that. There was no part of you that was ready to truly live there again, and you doubted that any part of you would be able to. However, you found yourself being slightly more excited than you were before at the prospects of going over and visiting. It didn’t hurt to think of it any more, it wasn’t simply the dark place were your childhood fell apart. In time, maybe, it could be like a second home.

“Hello?”

The sudden voice causes you to jump. It’s slightly unfamiliar, you’re sure you’ve heard it before but not recent enough that you’re able to place a face to it. You don’t move, whoever it was they would go away.

“I know you’re there, Dick sent me. And I can kind of see you.”

Dick?

Scooting from behind a more than slightly broken-down wall, you peak and see a dark-haired boy waiting at the entrance of you home.

“Tim?” You question somewhat confusedly.

“Uh, hey,” He greets shyly blue eyes slightly averting from yours.

“W-what are you doing here?” You question as you begin to wring your fingers slightly nervously. Ever since Dick’s, admission that he had purposefully played a part in keeping Tim away from you, you found yourself unsure about your feelings toward the boy. He wasn’t at fault with what had happened to you, but to have no interest in you at all, that you found a little strange.

“They told me you were back, and I wanted to see if it was true.”

“Make sure I’m not robbing in more banks?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“That and to make sure you hadn’t turned into an evil librarian,” he responds with a chuckle.

_‘He has a nice smile’_ you think to yourself. However, it’s always slightly unsure. Most likely because he had always been worried about the big shoes that he had to fill. He was different from the others, he chooses his life rather than having it thrust upon him like the others had. Having a choice means having an optional responsibility, which leads room for questioning. Was he good enough? Did he have what it takes? What happens if he fails? You imagine that he had endured this sort of self-examination before, and that his self-esteem at one point had no doubt had taken at hit because of it.

“The only thing evil that I’ve done so far was getting rid of termites. Death on a massive scale,” you joke.

He nods and lifts his deep blue eyes to examine the work you’ve done so far, “Do you need help?”

Your eyebrows furrow. The jeans, the jacket, and the shirt he was wearing were a little too nice for doing work. It’s definitely not why he came here.

“You develop some telekinetic powers that I don’t know about?” You ask and demonstrate your own by stacking some wooden beams in front of you.

“No, but I could,” He makes a screwing motion with his hand. “Or something. You know, I can be handy.”

You laugh, “Can you? I don’t recall it be your specialty.”

“Well,” he says with a huff, “I’ve grown, you know we all can’t have world ending mystical powers.”

“World ending?” You question. “I don’t know about that. And they aren’t so mystical.”

“Yeah, well, they’re pretty cool though,” he compliments rocking back and forth on his heels.

“That’s a compliment I wasn’t expecting, for the world second greatest detective.”

He blushes slightly.

“What did you really come here for, Tim? You know you didn’t have to come see me if you didn’t want to.”

“I did, want to, I mean,” He clarifies clearing his throat. “I just wanted to apologize. I never gave you a chance and that wasn’t right.”

“It’s all right, Tim you were young and didn’t know better. I was older I could have come to you.”

“I may not have listened.”

“I still could have tried,” you say with a sigh. “I’m learning now, you know? As crappy as it was I think I made myself even more miserable. I didn’t, and still don’t know how to deal with rejection well.”

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with it in the first place though,” He says with a sigh. “I don’t know if you know this, but I always felt like I was kind of taking your place. Like, I never got why you weren’t the one who was out with Bruce. Especially after I found about your powers. Dick told me that you really just wanted nothing to do with us. And I believed him.”

“I know,” you say sadly, “He told me what happened, I don’t blame you and the two of us are trying to get over it, so you don’t have to feel guilty.”

“Still though, it would have been nice to have sister to rig those claw machines at the arcade.”

“You say that like I can’t do that now,” You respond with hands on your hips and a raised eyebrow.

“Well,” he says digging into his pocket and pulling out a wad of one-dollar bills, “I’m not saying that I was hoping that we’d get to this point, but I’m kind of glad we got to this point.”

You laugh and a part of you feels warm, “I’ll put on something arcade appropriate and we can go, why don’t we see if we can’t catch a movie afterword?”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” He says with a bright smile. “Are you sure you aren’t telepathic?”

“Not that I know of,” you chuckle.

Had this been what you’d been missing?

It’s August and it’s already back to school time. You’ve thought about going to college. You’d be good at it, you were top of you class in high school after all, a failed attempt to get some recognition from you family. And the break you took between school and now could easily be explained away. You were finding yourself; isn’t that what the kids says when they don’t go straight to college after high school?

Kicking your crossed ankles back and forth as you sipped your latte, you watched as people began to walk passed. The small congested coffee shop sitting on a relatively busy Gotham corner, was surprisingly one of the most isolated places in the city. It’s why you waited here.

You were sure that you had seen that shock of white hair around here somewhere. Secretly, you were hoping that it hadn’t been him, you weren’t sure if you were ready to face him yet, to ask for forgiveness. The thought of what you did to him always made your heart race with guilt and your eyes well with tears. You’d taken out your rage on the one person in your life that you knew had not deserved it.

Your fingers tighten around the coffee mug in front of you, you’d been in the same spot for hours and you yet to see him. You’d be back tomorrow and sit in the same spot again until you find him. You wanted to be free of this guilt but more than that you wanted him to think of you as his little sister again.

When the sun begins to set, you scoot back and gather your items. When your done you return you mug to the barista. She flashes you a smile and you give her a smile in return. You could tell that she felt bad for you. She’d been the one to service you every time you came in, and a part of you felt her keeping a close eye on you, especially when you started waiting for hours. You wondered if she thought you were constantly being stood up.

With a sigh, you leave the comfortable warmth and glow of the coffee shop and into the cool summer evening of the Gotham streets. You’d be heading to the manor tonight, there had been an increase in crime on the outskirts of the city, where your apartment was, and Alfred had implored that you come and stay where it was safe. You had almost laughed in his face when he expressed concern about your safety, but you chose not to tell him you could rip anyone who tried to harm you into tiny pieces. Somehow you doubted that would make him feel any better about you staying alone.

You take your cellphone from your pocket to call for a ride but just as you bring the phone up to press you your ear the slick device is pulled from you hand. It all seems to happen in slow motion. So slow in fact that you get to look at the criminal’s face as he takes the phone. His eyes meet yours as he does and for a split second he looks terrified.

Scared of you? Maybe he was hoping for a simple grab and go.

But there is a force on your shoulder pushes you back, your head snaps up but all you see is a smattering of white hair and wide shoulders.

“Jason,” You breathe as he rushes past you.

The thief drops your phone and runs. And though your device is lying safely on the ground Jason still gives chase, clearly angry that someone would dare to harm you.

Once you retrieve your item, you begin to pursue the pair. You’d seen them turn down on of Gotham’s many alleys, without hesitation you followed them.

There at the back of an alley with a single light, your older brother has the thief in the air by his collar and is angrily berating the man.

“You think you’re going to steal from _my_ sister and get away with it,” He hisses grip on the man tightening. “You’ve got to be a fucking idiot.”

“I-I don’t know who you are man. I just saw the phone. I wasn’t targeting her,” the thief squeals.

“And you chose the wrong girl to steal from,” Jason says slamming the man back into the brick wall. He removes one of his hands from the man and you realize that he is going to punch him.

“Jason!” You call, and the man freezes, his eyes flash to you, eyebrows furrowed tightly in anger and confusion. “It’s fine I got my phone, you don’t have to hurt him.”

You can see him thinking, clearly not liking the idea of letting the guy go without any type of punishment. However, it only takes a few seconds for his shoulders to relax and his arms lower. The, now free thief, lands on his feet and bolts out of the alley, but not before muttering a quick sorry to you as he runs past.

With the thief is gone, it’s the two of you left in silence. Your nervous energy flares as your mind finally catches up to the fact that you are alone with the man you were most afraid to see again.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, even as you begin to approach.

“Jason?” You ask, and he tenses and runs a large hand over his face. “I know it may not be the best time, but I wanted to apologize with what happened.”

He doesn’t respond but he does quickly turn around and he looks at you with narrowed intense blue eyes that freeze you. Your words are thick in your throat and you feel like a little girl when you look at him.

Your eyes begin to ache as tears well up, “S-sorry, J-Jason.”

The moment the words leave your lips your embraced tightly, a hand on the back your head and an arm squeezing tightly across your back. Your tears rush down your face soaking both his and your shirt. He doesn’t say anything at first just squeezes you tighter.

“It’s alright,” He murmurs. “You’re an idiot, so you did stupid shit. Are you still doing stupid shit?”

You shake your head.

“Good.”

He pulls back from you slightly and he uses one of his thumbs to wipe the tears running down your cheeks, but the tears don’t stop.

“Your eyes are going to swell up,” he comments with a frown.

“I thought you’d hate me,” you manage to babble out.

“You broke my arm because your feelings got hurt. I tried to murder the city, I think if I didn’t forgive you I’d be a hypocrite.”

You want to laugh but all the comes out is a stifled whine.

“Stop crying,” he orders as affectionately places both hands on your cheeks and squeezes your face. “You don’t have to cry anymore.”

It makes you cry more.

“What are you sad about now?!” He questions irritably.

“I’m not,” You say bringing the sleeves of your shirt up to your eyes to clear your eyes once again. “I’m just so happy.”

“Ugh, were you always so sappy? You’ve been spending time Dick haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” You confirm.

“Don’t let him turn you into a pussy,” he scolds hands on your shoulders.

“I’ll try not to,” You say with a smile.

“Good,” he says and in turn he gives you a smirk. He looks down the alley way. “I’m hungry, let’s get a burger.”

“And milkshakes?” You question eyes wide. It’s amazing how easy it is for the two of you just to snap back to the way you were.

“Obviously,” He says with a scoff, “Why would I deprive you of that?”

You flash him another smile, and you feel light and airy. This feels more like that happiness that you had been searching for.

It’s the early days of September and the nights are still long with muggy air, the perfect time for a fair. School kids, who you know should be at home, are running through the different attractions and food stands. You’d be lying if you said you were completely comfortable. You supposed that’s why when you had expressed interest in going to the fair, Jason had volunteered to take you. So far it had been nice, almost like when he used to help you sneak out, but better.

“Arms in the air!” He screams from behind you. And you turned to look at him confusedly. “It’s a timed thing!”

Oh.

The bright orange basketball in your hands looks bigger than it did on the rack. Raising your hands and the ball straight over your head, you aggressively chuck the ball at the backboard. The ball speeds through the air and slams into the wooden board, and due to the awkward angle you throw it, it juts straight back. The ball flies into the crowd, luckily Jason is quick enough to catch the ball before anyone is hurt.

“Like this,” Jason calls again, arching the ball into the air. You’re slightly surprised when the ball easily slips into the basket.

“That doesn’t count!” The stand owner shouts.

“I know that dipshit, I’m just showing her how to shoot the ball,” Your older brother responds quickly, aggressive tone causing the vendor to quiet down quickly.

You take the next ball and achieve similar results. You weren’t a sports person in school and having never having learned outside of school, your arms are too stiff, and your aim tends to be more than a bit off.

The ball was never going to go in. It was a reality that you were more than willing to deal with as the buzzer signaling that time had run out began to sound.

With a shrug you turned to look back at Jason, who looks more disappointed than you do, and frown. You see him reach down into his pocket and he pull out a twenty-dollar bill and slams it into the hand of the vendor.

“Jason?” You question with furrowed brows. “I don’t want the stuffed bear that bad.”

“It’s not about you!” He says aggressively. “Well it is, but it’s not. This is your first time at a fair and I’m not going to let a rigged game ruin your night.”

“Rigged?!” Then vendor screams irritated. “The girl can’t shoot! She’s worse than my grandma!”

“Gimme that ball, old man, she’s getting all of those toys,” Jason declares pointing at and assortment stuffed animals.

“Jason, I’m not five,” you add quickly.

“So?” He looks at you weirdly.

You simply shake your head and allow him to start. It’d taken you a moment to realize that Jason doesn’t see you as the adult you are. He sees a little girl, his little sister, and he wanted the best for you and for you to experience everything you should have gotten to. Everything he should have gotten to experience as a child. Perhaps one day his coddling might get annoying, but he might simply see that as rebellious stage, and dote on you even more.

“I’m going to get a funnel cake.”

“Don’t get lost,” he calls over his shoulder, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the hoop as he sinks his first basket.

It doesn’t take you long to find yourself at a food stand. Your mouth waters at when you’re nose smells the fried dough and powdered sugar. The line is long, but with the amount of money that Jason is spending on that game, you don’t doubt that you’ll be back before he finishes.

“Damian, you don’t have to be a jerk!”

Its these words that catch your attention above all the other noise in the crowd and you turn to see where it came from.

Your breath catches slightly in your chest when you catch sight of your only blood related brother standing in the middle of a group of children. At least they look like children, one of them is green. It had been a while since you had seen the young boy, he’d still not come around to your presence and you wouldn’t force yourself on him. He’d come around eventually. You knew that your father had sent him away for some reason, something about Teen Titans being able to help him. You’d assumed it was some sort of summer camp/boarding school.

Wasn’t it late to be out for a kid to be out with a guardian? It was almost 10.

“Star is going to be pissed if she finds out we snuck out.”

Well that explains what is going on here.

“She probably already knows and is coming to kill us.”

They all looked a little panicked, even your brother. Maybe you should help?

With a sigh, you reluctantly step away from the line and approach the group.

Ever observant, your brother notices you first and his green eyes narrow on your form.

“What are _you_ doing here?” He asks sharply. It’s a nicer greeting than the last one you got from him. The last time you same him he simply greeted you as “Criminal.”

“Jason took me to the fair,” You respond truthfully. “What are you doing here?”

The group of children look back and forth between you and the young boy that has his arms crossed.

A boy with a strange blue backpack is the first to speak, “You know her?”

“I’m his sister,” You say with a smile.

“Unfortunately.”

“Dude!” The green one says again elbowing the Damian, “Why didn’t you say had a sister?”

“It was none of your business that’s why,” Damian quiets him quickly. “What do you want?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear about your little predicament, I might be able to help,” you say as a smirk crawls over you face. “Though I’m sure Father would love to know about you sneaking out.”

The young boy scoffs, “I don’t need your help _woman_ -“

You slightly surprised when a young girl with dark hair slaps your brother on the back of the hand, “If she can help, then yes _we_ do.”

“Fine,” Damian relents. “What do you suppose?”

“Where do you need to go?” You question. “If you tell me, I can get you there or rather next to it. It’s a new thing I’ve been trying out with my powers.”

The dark-haired girl gives the address and then she asks, “Can you get us there?”

You nod and give her smile, “Stand close.”

They all huddle together in a circle and you and extend your hands. With a deep breath you begin to concentrate, you have some idea where it is that the kids need to go, and you picture it in your mind. A rush of energy flows through you and out of your hands. When you open your eyes, you see the children slowly disappear from the bottom up.

“Dude, look! The green boy says watching himself disappear.

You get a chorus a thankyous from the other children, except your brother.

He looks at you’re with slightly soften green eyes as you give him a rather shy smile, he then mutters a,

“Thanks.”

“Welcome,” You say with a wave as they finally completely come around.

He’s most definitely coming around; next time you see him he might even say hello.

“Hey, where’s the cake?”

You jump slightly and turn to see Jason carrying two armfuls of stuffed bears.

“Jason, what am I going to do with all those?”

He looks down in his arms and he looks at you confusedly, “I got one in every color, don’t kids like these?”

“I’m not a kid, Jason,” You say putting your hands on your hips.

“Bull shit,” He scoffs, “You’re like twelve.”

“Jason, I’m going to college.”

“So, what, fourteen?” He teases. “Hurry up and choose your favorite so I can so I can stick the rest in this bag I got.”

It’s a trap, you know it is, if you pick your favorite, his assertion that you are a child will be right. But that gold bear is so cute.

Reluctantly, you slip the bear from his arm.

“That’s what I thought,” He said stuffing the rest of the bears into a bag.

“Shut up,” you pout. “I still want my funnel cake.”

“You’re the one that was standing over here talking to the air.”

“Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You frown, and he laughs.

It doesn’t take long for you to get your cake and as you sit on one of the benches and scoop your sugary treat into your mouth, Jason gives you a soft smile. It’s not one you see very often, and it causes you to pause.

“What?” You question.

“I’m glad you’re better.”

You pause at his words and you think back over the experiences over the past few years. Where you completely healed? No, and you don’t think that you ever will be. But it doesn’t hurt so much anymore, and your smiles came freely.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
